Something Unexpected
by jazzy2may
Summary: AU, Slash DM/M, A Farmer had need of a wife and instead he got something totally unexpected. A whole lot of trouble in the form of one Highlander Immortal. Don't like, don't read. More summary inside.
1. Chapter 1

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IF YOU DISLIKE FICS LIKE THIS PLEASE DO NOT READ IT OR FLAME ME.

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**Warning: a total AU, angst, drama, Hurt-comfort, m/m romance, m/m coupling, non con, torture, and recovery.**

**SLASH AHEAD!**

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Mail-Order-Brides (Highlander style): Something Unexpected  
Written by: Jazzy (12/2006) 

Pairing: Methos/Duncan  
Rating: **MA / Mature**  
**Summary: A rewrite of Duncan Macleod's first meeting with the Ancient man known as Methos. Story takes place between the present and the past, in the old west. A Farmer needs a wife and instead he gets something totally unexpected.**

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CHAPTERS 1-3 Now available (Chapters 4-5 soon to be available, Chapters 6 through the Ending is in the works and coming... eventually.) 

I do enjoy feedback so feel free to leave a review if you like?  
Thank you kindly,  
jazzy

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**Part One**

1990s/The present

After learning about the watchers Duncan wasn't sure he liked the idea that he was being watched. It was rather creepy. Even if Joe seemed like a good guy. Duncan knew that in any organization, just like governments, corruption existed. Who was to say that Watchers' goals were something very different from what they tell their field agents. Keep tabs on the Immortals write their histories, sure but for who and when and why? Chroniclers of Immortal lives, it made Duncan shudder. He knew his Immortality was special that it was a gift but it was also a curse to live lifetime upon lifetime to watch all you have loved grow old and die, even countries come and go, nations going to war time after time. Mortal life was hard but Immortal life was never ending hardship.

At first knowing that it was Joseph watching him he felt somewhat benign even felt somewhat safe, yet lately he could feel something tense in the air. Instinct was warning him of something not good. Whether it was a Hunting Immortal or else some unforeseen and totally new tragedy was about to come to Duncan Macleod of the Clan Macleod. He had felt this oppressive weight only a handful of times in his lifetime and each time something harrowing and nerve wracking always came to play and wreak havoc and chaos in his life, upsetting its balance and causing extreme strife and intense heartache and pain.

Connor had spoken of Immortal gifts. "Every Immortal has something in them that can weave its own magic, Duncan. My own gifts for magic and reading of doom in the future is a little too prominent gifts of Ramirez and the old Magician I met in the mountain long years past. Cassandra is a witch, I am not, though I do have some ability for it, some affinity to it. In you Duncan there is little gift of magic but you do have uncanny instinct and a gift with the blade that few have. You have an affinity for spirit and body Duncan that is an amazing thing."

"You are saying I have no magic in me?"

Connor smiled at the perturbed tone of Duncan's voice. The look in his kinsman's eyes was one of complexity. Duncan was deep in thought and not sure that he liked not having any magic other than the quickening yet, he liked not having magic or having to learn a new set of rules and discipline.

"If those of you who do have magic come for me what shall I do, Connor? How do I defeat a magical opponent?"

Connor chuckled. "Keep your wits about ye Duncan, and listen to the voice inside of ye. Close out the voice that would impose its will on ye, close out the illusion and seek the heart of the matter as you always do. Look with your heart then with you mind. Let instinct be your guide and trust yourself."

Duncan shivered as that feeling came over him again. He glimpsed over his shoulder as he turned into the University Staff Parking and saw a troop of strangers in black suits sunglasses and a tattoo on one wrist march into the building. He frowned. What were watchers doing here? And why did they look like a death squad?

Special forces training and his four hundred years of warrior instinct rose up along with the baby hairs at the nape of his neck. Something wasn't right. He quickly dialed the police. He didn't want to antagonize the situation but he found his feet were taking him to the steps of the main building passing students who waved friendly at him. His students. His students could be in danger and he couldn't sit still and wait and do nothing. He dialed Joe's Bar. But felt that distinctive swelling presence and dropped his phone on the car floor. Joes' voice was tiny coming through the phone but Duncan couldn't bring himself to pull away his attention from the presence that was now filling him.

A presence he felt seep into his every pore and down through skin and bone to his core so deep into his very being. He felt his heart beat triple time it, felt his breath stop for a moment. Felt the joining of his spirit with his true self.

Adamson!

He couldn't lose Adamson. Not ever. Instinct told him Adamson was the target. Instinct screamed at him not to run not to get anyone's attention, but he ran. He was not going to Lose Adamson as he had all the others, others like little Maddie or adult Michael or his most recent loss Tessa.

Terror leant him more speed not the unearthly speed like Connor's but speed enough that made students and teachers alike blink with shock.

Why was Duncan Macleod running down the hallway looking like a hunted deer?

Suddenly gunfire came to life and students and teachers screamed in panic and fear.

For Duncan it felt like it was happening to someone else, he felt his mind and body disconnect from the situation, felt a strange fear tranquility come over him. He would not let Adamson or the children die. He'd glimpsed a sword in one man's possession. He didn't even feel his legs spring or launch himself into the gunfire.

Training took over.

He heard bone snap, heard a gasp. Heard a scream that was in a voice hoarse and desperate, that sounded like his own, but a voice in pain. The next man he connected with he took the man out quickly, going under his reach, snapping fist into nose and ramming bone into mortal brain, the man's gun now Duncan's and Duncan aimed at the one closest to the struggling Adamson.

Shocky hazel eyes burned into his own. Duncan felt his heart squeeze in pain as a knife came up to threaten Adamson's vulnerable neck another assailant coming up to Adamson from behind. Duncan fired his confiscated glock with perfect deadly aim, a bullet impacted brain and another mortal bit the dust. The last one, Duncan coldly, efficiently stepped into his space, and put the barrel of the gun to that one's temple.

Only after securing this man did Duncan than look at students and teachers and felt his nerves begin to burn with sensation.

He felt his knees give way as some weird seizure shook him and tears blurred his eyes. He didn't like to kill. But the kids were safe now and so was Adamson. What he had done had saved them. He smiled shakily up at Adamson.

"Hello Adam."

Adamson grinned at him, but his eyes showed deepening concern for his friend. "Hello Highlander. Been a while."

"God above." said Duncan shaking his head then quickly disarming and dismantling the weapon in his hands. "Damn guns. I can't stand the things."

"For someone against them you were definitely very efficient with it." teased Adam, trying to get Duncan out his state of shock. He was concerned that Macleod's hands were shaking and that his usually bronze skin was an unnatural pale color.

Duncan stayed on his knees for a little longer trying to get strength back into his body and to make his heart stop pounding in terror. What was it about Adamson that always did this to him.

"I really didn't want to be a hero today but when I saw you and saw where they were going…" Duncan's voice trailed off.

"Its alright Duncan, we're safe now. We're all alright. No one injured except for the bad men. You did a good job Duncan. A good job." soothed Adamson, kneeling at the distraught Scotsman's side.

"I can't seem to stop shaking." Duncan admitted quietly. "I called the police, they should be here soon and I, we should be going."

Duncan's voice carried that quality that a victim in shock carried in their tone after something traumatic has happened. Adam was concerned he hadn't seen Duncan this shaken in, well it had been five decades since they last had seen one another. Duncan had changed and yet not. Taking lives had never been an easy thing for Duncan. Taking mortal lives harder by far than Immortal ones for the Scot.

The Dean, a woman of distinct beauty and statuesque height carefully stepped up to her two professor's sides. "Duncan, Adam, are you alright?" she asked concern in her dark blue eyes.

She was as shaken as the rest of her faculty and staff and students. Duncan had been a beautiful glorious show of deadly grace and skill. He had killed with such amazing ability, breathtaking to watch even if it had been scary as well. Watching someone perform a dance of death was never simple or easy to watch. She had served in the corp. at one time in her youth and had suspected Macleod and Pierson of similar backgrounds as herself when she had hired them. Gentle compassionate each in their own way and right now Duncan was scaring her for a different reason. This was a man who had suffered too much seen too much, the edge was too close.

"Did you say you called the police?"

Duncan blinked at her in some shock, he was finally coming awake to his surroundings.  
"Dean Miranda, where did you come from?" he asked gaping.

Adam shook his head and chuckled. "Come on Duncan my knees are killing me and I think this marble is starting to hurt yours as well."

"Actually, I can't really feel my legs." Duncan admitted sheepishly.

Both Adam and Dean Miranda blinked in shock then Miranda's eyes widened in sudden horror, her hand went to her mouth trying to cover her gasp as blood blossomed, pooling through Duncan's shirt, now Adam was taking off his coat and quickly clamping the coat to Macleod's wounds.

Adamson cursed colorfully and in three no four different languages. Methos knew how to play the game. How could Macleod be so foolish? He hoped Macleod didn't die while they were still in the eyes of all the mortals and on school property.

"God, Macleod! Miranda, we have to get Macleod to Hospice. Now." he commanded.

"Everyone back out now, back up, give them room. We'll take my car. Duncan hang on." she took charge and commanded the people about her like a general with her army. Duncan's vision was getting a little foggy, edged with red and black.

"You look good Adam…. Like your hair… spiky… its good… on you." gasped Macleod through a mouth suddenly dry as desert and sounding stuffed with cotton.

"Hang on Macleod. Don't you bloody die now." he hissed into Mac's ear, then out loud to the dean and for the students to hear. "Miranda, Mac's car is closest. I'll take him to hospital, you stay here see to the police and the students they need you now. I can take care of Duncan."

Duncan was a little surprised to find that Adamson knew what his car looked like let alone where he'd ended up parking it. How had Adamson known what his car looked like? The last time they had seen each other Studebakers were in not yet mustangs.

"Just die when we're out of site of Miranda and the school." Methos pleaded in silence with the dying Macleod.

Macleod seemed to hear him and did his valiant best. Miranda didn't easily give ground but seeing her school in turmoil her students' fearful gazes she had no choice but to submit to Adam's wiser command.

"All right, but expect us to go visit after this mess is cleared up. Hang on Duncan. Hang on, you're a good man we don't want to lose you. Just hang on. Don't die." insisted Miranda then she left both Immortals alone for Adam to care for Duncan and see to the Highlander's needs. She hoped fervently that Macleod survived. He was a good teacher and students loved and respected him as did many of the staff and faculty.

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Duncan's phone was still live, Joe was barking into the receiver. "Macleod? Macleod! Can you hear me?"

Methos winced. Joe sounded pissed and scared all at the same time. "Hang on Joseph," growled Adam in some frustration, getting the car pulled out into traffic. Temper fraying he hissed in to the phone. "Your Macleod has been shot while defending our students and school from Watcher Terrorists."

"Adam? God what are you doing there? How do you know Mac? What's going on?"

"Joe, have you forgotten where Duncan now teaches? It was a fluke. We teach at the same University for the moment. I think we should have a proper conversation and not over the phone." insisted Adam. "Face to face. Watchers Joe, they invaded the school and were trying to kill me… Us… me … I don't know. Something's going on Joe. Something wrong and not right."

Joe Dawson held a breath for a moment. "All right where do you want this conversation to take place?"

"Macleod's flat, I would think. Can you give me directions?" he asked smoothly pretending he didn't know Duncan as well as Dawson for the moment believed he did. Which of course was the truth or at least the truth fifty years ago, hell a hundred and twenty years ago actually.

Joe was flummoxed.

**

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Flash-Back (1800s)****  
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Kit O'Brady and Walter Graham were never to be trusted again. Duncan decided as he scowled darkly at the receding shore line. He didn't know how or even why they did it but he swore revenge on them. He could take a joke as well as anyone and play along with it to the inevitable end. He had a sense of humor even if many didn't quite understand it. He could laugh and have fun along with the rest of them but this joke had gone too far. He didn't even understand how it came to this. 

Kilt traded in for chemise and skirts!

He was furious with Kit and Walter. How could they do something so shameful to him? He was their friend. For friendship's sake he wouldn't take their heads but he'd make them grovel before he ever forgave them.

Bastards!

Guards on both sides of him, his "lady's escort" helping him to his destination. It wasn't so much that he was a prisoner so much as he was chattel sold and auctioned off and now being sent to some rancher out in the west, paying his "brother's debts" off with his own sweat and blood.

If Connor ever found out about this Duncan knew he'd never live it down. Connor would rib him for the rest of his eternal life. That teacher of his had yet to know when to let a joke go.

Bastards!

The humiliation of it all. He couldn't protest he dared not even try to show them what he was otherwise he'd be killed and though it wasn't such a bad thing getting killed he suspected it wouldn't be a slow death, being named a pervert usually resulted in slow degrading death and he really didn't want the name pervert added to his list of personal achievements and stupid reasons for getting killed, also, being killed slow then tossed off the ship could result in either being fed on by the fishes or a long hard swim and many times drowning before getting back to shore, and he preferred none of those choices either.

So play the part of the shrew to the end of his journey he would. Though he wasn't at all happy about it. He was a good actor but he didn't think he'd be able to pull it off so convincingly for as long as it took for him to get to where he was going. Then from there try to straighten things out with the poor schmuck that had bought himself a dud of a wife.

Bastards! He seethed.

It took him a few weeks to figure out that one of the guards actually had a crush on him. He tried to discourage the guard and carefully keep his disguise intact. The guard was a sweet kid but Duncan didn't think his or the guard's pride could take the humiliation if anything untoward should happen between them.

**

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Chapter Two  
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- Present Day - 

Macleod died before they reached his driveway. Methos was surprised to find it wasn't The Dojo but an actual little cottage in a peaceful suburb. There were rose bushes lining the walk way, some vegetables planted under one window, a weeping willow off set one side of the house while pine tress off set the other side and giving it a nice isolated feeling, yet a peaceful homey feel to it as well. Adam was impressed with the Highlander's new home. He wondered if there was room for guests. He was pleasantly rewarded with Macleod's returning signature. Doe-like brown eyes opened abruptly and the fit body reawakened to life with an inhale of air.

"Hello Highlander, welcome back. You'll have to pretend to be injured for a while. All those witnesses." Tisked Methos playfully, but his eyes showed his true seriousness and concerns.

Duncan scowled. Methos was glad to see it. It meant Duncan was coming back to his senses. The shock from earlier had died with the temporarily dead Immortal.

"Its good to see you're back to your usual self."

Macleod kept scowling at his tormentor. "I was surprised to sense you. You didn't even send me a card to let me know you were in the states, let alone in the area where I live now."

Methos shrugged. "After our last time together Duncan, I wasn't sure it would be a good idea to see one another again. We haven't exactly been good for one another Macleod."

Duncan sighed. "You have a point Adam. Neither one of us was ready to let the past go then. The pain was still so fresh…. So fresh in me even so long after…."

"You weren't yourself, Duncan." soothed Adam, holding Duncan's hand in his.

"You're always comforting me Adam. You spoil me. You always seem so much stronger than I. I can't keep doing this to you. I can't keep doing this to myself." said Duncan.

"There's no blame." insisted Methos. "What happened back then, that was no body's fault but Koren's. Melvin Koren killed our daughter, it was no one's fault but his." _I should have killed him, long ago. But back then he seemed so much stronger than I. He was insane, a God, and I had followed him willingly. I was hurt and angry with the world at that time. _"We made bad choices that led down a dark and twisted path to a duel. Michael was an adult, Duncan. I couldn't forbid him from marrying that woman, you know I couldn't. It was unreasonable. Sometimes I think on it and I look back into my memories on those times and I wish, Gods, how I wish I could have made different choices. Neither one of us were exactly in a good or healthy state after what happened to Madeline, Duncan, you know that." Insisted Adam feelings long buried of frustration rose within him.

This was futile. He should cut his ties with Duncan, go off to Bora Bora for a while, maybe return in a couple hundred years, maybe then Duncan would be at a good place and he as well for a relationship.

"It took me a long time Adam, I know I'm not completely well yet, maybe I never will be. But I want you to know Adam. I still love you. I am seeing Sean Burns and Darius. I've been working through the darkness in me. I want to be better. I want to have a healthy relationship with you. I wasn't expecting you so soon. But even five decades feels like an eternity when you are not with me." explained Duncan.

Their hands were entwined, Immortal eyes gazing locked onto one another lost totally into each other. If an Immortal with a killer's agenda had walked up to them just then neither one of them would have felt the distinctive signature, lucky for them it was a red headed kid and Duncan's student, Richie Ryan.

Richie was shocked. Duncan wasn't gay. But there he was lost in another Immortal's eyes, a male's eyes. Only Duncan Macleod's expression was a lot more intense than any expression he'd ever turned on Tessa Noel. It was a look of total consumption. Both Immortals looked about to devour one another and not in the cannibal kind of way.

Joe Dawson's distinctive steps and the tapping of his cane on concrete and stone, made all three immortals jump. "Mac, Adam, explain to me what's going on here." asked Joe plaintively.

Macleod blushed and looked guilty. Adam tried his best innocent look and turned it on his friend of ten years only to have Dawson give him a look only a father or older brother could give of perfect displeasure.

"Give it up Adam." said Mac. Patting Adam playfully on the cheek. "Joe's pretty intelligent. He's also a pretty decent interrogator. If you don't talk now he'll simply get it out of you later, when your off at his bar swilling down your favorite beverage."

"Duncan." growled Adam. "I am not an Alcoholic!" he protested.

Duncan shrugged and put on a very neutral expression, too neutral to be real. "Whatever you say, Adam, just know that I will sponsor you if you ever decide to take a 12-step program."

"And what were you ever addicted to?" demanded Adam.

"Oh, well, sex, I guess." smirked Macleod, leaving them all gaping as he leaped out of his car and glided to his door step, hips swinging playfully and seductively every step of the way.

"Bloody, cheeky, bastard." groaned Adam, eyes glued to Duncan perfectly round, perfectly taught and cushiony bum. A bum he could sink his teeth or hard flesh into, drown in. "bloody hell, he's going to be the death of me." he gasped in low murmur.

Joe Dawson raised an eyebrow. Richie Ryan blushed and looked any where but at Macleod or the strange Immortal in Macleod's thunderbird mustang.

"Well, are ye all coming in or are you just going to stand there all day in the sun?" asked Macleod, unlocking his door and stepping in to his home.

It was a snug cottage. Three bedrooms, medium sized front room and a large kitchen and a small dining room. One of the bedrooms was an office, and the last bedrooms was the master bedroom and the guest bedroom. Out in the back was a gazebo, large enough to practice katas in. Lots of trees and bushes to keep curious eyes out and allow Duncan some privacy and to train in peace if he didn't want to go to the Dojo.

Once everyone was settled inside Duncan changed his clothes and reached into the fridge and got out a large container of ice tea. He poured everyone a drink then sat down in the couch next to Adam. Joe was in the easy chair and Richie was seated in his favorite chair. Adam sorted through the many stories and lies his mind developed for him to use only to have his mind go silent as Duncan again took his hand in an easy and familiar manner.

"No lies old man." he insisted gently but firmly.

Adam sighed and took another sip of his ice tea. "Joe, I want you to know that I have the utmost respect for you and the watchers. I have not used the watchers to further any personal goals other than to keep out of the site of other immortals. "

"Who are you really, Adam." demanded Joe. Joe had to admit he was surprised by his own calm by his own acceptance of the situation. He knew watchers were hunting Immortals and right now it was a dangerous time for Immortals to pop up. He quickly corrected himself, shaking his head. "I don't think I want to know who you are right now after all, Adam. Tell me when the danger has passed and we can rectify this situation in a reasonable non lethal kind of way."

Duncan smiled. "Even I don't know who Adam is, only that he's very old and he doesn't play the game."

"And that the two of you are intimates and have known each other, how long?" asked Joe Dawson. "And Mac, why? I mean, as far as every chronicle has ever said of you, you're not gay."

"Joe." chastised Adam. "Most Immortals don't kiss and tell. We live hundreds of years. You really think there's a social label that really counts where we're concerned?" asked Adam, pointedly.

Duncan blushed. "Adam's my first, my uh, he uh, well it….." he kept stuttering and faltering.

Adam rolled his eyes and elbowed him in the ribs. "Let me tell it, Duncan since you're still so embarrassed by it."

"Its not that … exactly…. Don't give me that look. All right. You tell it. But by God Adam if you laugh."

"Come on Duncan if I can laugh at it so can you. It was actually quite an amusing tale how it all happened."

Duncan scowled stood up and went to cleaning his kitchen sink and putzing around in his cabinets. Adam looked at Macleod and shook his head amused again by Duncan's antics. "Dawson, might I introduce you to my 68th wife, Dunca Adamson." Duncan glowered at Adam's gracefully gesturing hand. The hand that was making a sweep in Duncan's direction.

Joe gaped as did Richie.

"M-Mac wha-what does he mean?" asked Richie stunned. Dawson's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. Duncan turned his back muttering about the sink needing some fixing.

"Don't be rude my little turtledove." teased Adam, in a falsely cloying adoring tone.

Duncan blushed even hotter. "I thought you were going to tell them how we met. Not tease me with foolish sap." Growled Duncan.

Joe Dawson laughed and so did Richie. "Oh my god Mac." they said in unison, laughing harder at the more crimson Macleod became.

Mac grumbled under his breath and left the room.

Adam smirked but it died quickly leaving behind it a serious look. "Now you guys, Mac has very sensitive feelings, its not nice to laugh at him." Insisted Methos. "At least not until after you hear how we got together."

**

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****Flash-Back 1800s**

Pierce Adamson was a practicing medical doctor and a farmer, trying to make a living, trying to have a new start in life. Pierce Adamson had recently married a widowed woman with a young son. They were together for nearly five years and Alexa's son had known no other father than Pierce and Pierce had loved both mother and son desperately.

At some point Alexa fell victim to a scum drifter. Adamson who rarely lost his temper hunted the criminal down and killed him savagely. Alexa had forgiven her assailant even if Adamson had not. Alexa was a kind woman and strong in a way Pierce had rarely seen in the human race. She was auburn haired and had grace of spirit that Pierce was in awe of.

If there were angels on earth Pierce Adamson believed his wife would have been one of them.

Her first husband had been a good man as well but had been unable to survive the harsh life of a new settlement. Adamson and his wife were married for convenience sake but in truth Adamson loved her greatly, though he could never be certain if she had loved him in return. Though many of the people in town romanticized the relationship and often assured him that his feelings for Alexa were returned in kind and in depth. Yet Adamson was uncertain though he never let his wife know it. He treated her with all the love and respect in his heart. He loved her son as if he were a son of his own body.

At first he was upset after learning Alexa was pregnant. He believed Alexa believed the child was his own. But the child was the product of the rape done to his wife. He had thought dark thoughts for several weeks before his more pragmatic nature took over. Why hold a child responsible for the sin of the Father? Adamson did not believe in such things and had no religion to call his own. He soon embraced the excitement the situation called for. Alexa was going to have another baby and their house would be twice blessed for having two children within it. It was a true gift for an Immortal any time they were given a woman with children for Immortals could not conceive a child of their own. Every Immortal was sterile.

Adamson loved his wife and his family and his new home. When it came time for her to give birth to the second child Adamson was at her side, coaching her and supporting her, but complications occurred and she bled out. She had enough time to whisper her last words of benediction love and instruction. "I have loved you Pierce, I grew more and more in love with you as the months marched ever onward. I was lucky to have you in my life and God willing I will look on you and the children from our holy father's kingdom in heaven. Take care of our children my husband and find a good and loving woman to help you."

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-** Present -**

Duncan came back into the room and was at Adam's side for a moment to rub his back and give him some comfort. "Alexa?" asked Duncan, compassionately. Adam fought his tears and wiped them on Duncan's sweatshirt. Duncan kept rubbing his back soothingly and lovingly.

"The town had not approved of Alexa. She was a widow and she married me too quickly. Many a female eyes had been on me and coveted me. I had been fresh meat. I was a doctor and well respected in the community. I had money and I gave advice in town meetings. Many a mother had introduced me to a ready and willing daughter. I chose a widow over fresh nubile social females. My Alexa suffered for it."

"They would be kind to my face and to me, but behind my back they chased her out of town and made her a veritable hermit, a homebody not welcomed in town, and I had been too stupid at the time to figure it out. On her death though I soon learned of the travesty of their treatment of her. I refused once again to marry any female in that town, old, young, experienced, inexperienced, I wouldn't even sleep with the prostitutes. I was so angry with them all."

"I was kept at home with my responsibilities for Alexa's children and though Alexa had beseeched me to find a new wife I was reluctant and stubborn. I wanted to raise the children on my own. But I could not. I had a farm and a medical practice to attend to as well as the socials and town meetings to attend. I was exhausted and killing myself. I needed help. I didn't trust anyone in that town. I thought of moving but, I had patience and my crops and… Alexa's grave was in the church yard there and I couldn't think of leaving her. I am usually much more of a pragmatist then that. I usually don't let my emotions get in the way of my survival. But I wanted, no Michale wanted, needed, to see her grave and I believed in making him happy."

"We had lost his mother. I didn't want to lose him. He was such a somber child and heart broken. His mother was dead, his father was dead, and he had only me and a new squalling baby sister who was growing more fussy and sickly as time went by."

* * *

**- The 1800s -**

Pierce Adamson was desperate for a wife but he still refused to marry any who lived in the town. He sent to his solicitor in the city a list of qualities he wished to have in the perfect wife. There was a tradition that had been ongoing for several years now, a practice known as Mail-Order-Brides, marriage contracts by signature and by mail, didn't need a priest any more as long as the contract was signed. Though often a priest was on stand by for the more traditional couples. The solicitor hired agents and searched the country far and wide, costing Pierce Adamson a pretty penny and promised to cost him more with time, time that was quickly running out.

He was desperate straights and needed a wife quickly.

He was hunted and hounded by every available female in town. Chased from his homestead to town and back again. Many of the women seemed not to have an ounce of shame in them. It was quite maddening and quite embarrassing for Pierce to be such a prize.

"Are there no available men in this town?" Pierce cried angrily, indulging his frustration with a well earned beer.

The other men just as drunk agreed with him. However there were some young available men who shot Pierce looks of envy and anger. They were forbidden to marry the girls of their dreams forbidden to even go near them or try to court them until Doc Adamson had chosen himself a wife and was once again off the market. They were not happy men.

Pierce felt more alive that night than on any other night before it, not only was he drunk but he had some wonderful news from his solicitor, a drawing had been send to him of a woman his solicitors believed to be a perfect match to his criteria. The drawing didn't do her much justice, in fact she looked rather like a spinster, and a little strong of features though not unhandsome in a masculine way.

* * *

Joe Dawson and Richie Ryan both spewed their Ice Tea. "Oh, my god and that wasn't like a clue?" asked Richie. 

Both older Immortals glared at the younger one and mortal. "Shut up Ryan/Richie." they both growled in unison.

"Let me get back to the story will you." glowered Adam.

Macleod retreated to his kitchen and went back to fiddling with the pipes.

* * *

Back to Flash back 

She was well tempered or so her brothers insisted and a very caring compassionate god fearing woman. She would be a help meet to her man the brothers insisted.

From the picture it was obvious why she had been single so long. Masculine features, still not an unlovely countenance. Still looks weren't everything and as long as she was willing to help with the children and love them as her own then he was happy to accept her for a wife.

The men drank to his good fortune and cheered for their own. At last Doc Adamson was going to be off the market.

* * *

PART THREE 

Dean Miranda was worried. She had called three different hospitals and clinics in the area and non of them had heard of Duncan Macleod or Adam Pierson, nor of the shooting at the school. News cars were out front, a young blonde woman was badgering her students and faculty alike wanting details. Police were asking questions as well.

Bodies don't just disappear and highly respected and loved professors didn't disappear either. Yet for all intents and purposes it seemed at the moment they did. What was going on here? Was there some sort of conspiracy with Adam and Duncan in the mix?

No, that blood had been real. The fluctuating heart beat, the shallow breathing, the pale face, blood still pooled on the marble of her revered center of learning.

She was frightened. Had her professors been kidnapped while trying to get Duncan help? She was heart sick. She had liked both men very much. She tried their phone numbers and contacts trying to find them. At last someone answered Macleod's home phone.

"Hello, Mac's house, how may I help ya?" cheeky grin and smile could be heard over the phone line as well as a man's growl of irritation. A familiar growl of irritation actually. Dean Miranda felt her heart pound with joy in her chest.

"Duncan?" she asked.

"Hold on, who is this?" asked the youth.

"My name is Dean Miranda, I'm trying to find either Duncan or Adam Pierson, are they there with you?"

Richie's eyes widened. "Uh, hold on again. Let me see if …."

"Here give me the bloody phone." hissed another familiar masculine voice. Dean Miranda smiled, her eyes tinged with tears.

"How is Duncan? Why haven't you taken him to Hospital?"

"The man's a brat Miranda, and bloody stubborn. He lost consciousness but as I was pulling into Hospital he insisted he didn't need the hospital. He has a friend Dr Ann Lindsay. She patched him up. He's alive. Ann insisted Mac stay home to rest over the next few weeks. She said it was a miracle the bullet missed his spine and managed nothing in the way of internal injuries or mortal wounding. Macleod's not liking the bed rest but his system was in shock and with the blood and all that, he's been on a drip for a few hours. He's cranky. If he gets fevered I'll take him back to Ann. Mac doesn't like or trust doctors, Miranda. He was a real baby."

"I am noht a baby, yew bloody bastard, yewr lucky I'm injured or I'd kick yewr arse." Macleod's voice came loud and deep from a safe distance in the house over the phone.

Miranda smiled. Yep that sounded like an irritated Macleod alright, a stubborn alive and kicking Macleod.

"All right, both of you can have the weeks necessary to recuperate. I also expect you to join the students in the weeks to come for the counseling sessions. This was a very traumatic situation and I don't want anyone left behind in the recovery processes."

"Understood Dean. We will attend in three weeks. Thank you." said Adam, warmth, quiet, and sincerity.

Miranda was satisfied for the time being. She would of course make arrangements for visits as soon as Mac felt more up to visitors and if Adam would allow for visitation. She was stunned how much the two seemed to know each other. She wondered if the two had been friends sometime in the past or if they had been something more. On the phone they seemed very familiar with one another. Going back into her mind remembering the look of desperation on Macleod's face, the fierce protection he'd shown in his decisive actions towards Adam's would be assailants -- her mind came to a stuttering halt.

Adam's assailants?

Adam?

Had Adam been the target?

She kept replaying the moment screen cap by screen cap and she began to shake anew. Why would anyone try to kill Adam? Adam was sweet, shy, charming, okay and he had a sharp witty tongue that could literally flay a man alive to bare bone in moments. Yet that hadn't kept people from being drawn to him and liking him.

Macleod's aggressive protection, fierce fight with Adam's assailants spoke of a devotion that to her mind went deeper than friendship or even brotherhood. The two had to have been lovers at one time. She didn't know what was more shocking to her. Not that she was against homosexuals it was just a stunning revelation to have about two guys who seemed sizzlingly heterosexual. Both men sweated pheromones of sexuality not a single woman or man had been able to resist their magnetic pull. People either wanted to be with them or be them.

Miranda shook her head trying to dispel the shock her brain was in.

"Never judge a book by the cover" she muttered to herself.

She was curious about their past. How had they first met? How had they become lovers? Why had they split up? Had it been the service? Had Duncan been recalled? Or something else? Maybe something traumatic?

When she looked into both men's eyes she could see something old and painful in both of them. Too much pain for a single person to carry alone. What had it been that had split them apart? Would it be a good thing for them to get back together again or would it be just best for them both if they let the past go and not pursue a relationship now in the present? If they did get together again she hoped the two would find happiness together this time around.

* * *

Duncan's POV of events in the story telling. 

Duncan sighed and looked at his friends.

"Its very embarrassing and painful to remember that time in my life, Joe. Adam and I met under less than spectacular circumstances. I still to this day cannot fully explain even to myself how it had come to be. One minute I was with the guys; living it up, gambling, drinking, womanizing; you know the things that bachelors do when they have no attachments at the moment to anyone. So, there I was with Kit and Walter laughing, having a ball. I think I may have been drugged or I drank too much, still not sure which. All I know is what was told to me years later, after a little payback was handed out." glower than smirk of righteousness. "It would seem that Walter and Kit owed some money, I had long hair at the time and looked "feminine" enough to pass for a woman." he spitout still rather angry about the whole mess.

"There was a private auction, and the two pretending to be brothers and on my behalf searching for qualified matrimonial suitors decided to kill two birds with one stone, namely auction me off and pay off their debts. For the most part I was basically sleeping beauty up to the point when I awakened on board a steam boat heading up river to a town with train passage to my new home in Dakota. To my continuing shame I hid in my disguise as a female up to the point when I met Adam, known as Doctor Adamson at the time."

"Now before that we had never formally met and he spent a good amount of money on my accommodations and for my... "Bride Price"..." more glowering. Adam smirked and took another sip of his ice tea. "Adam had used a friend of a friend to search for a bride for him to help him on his farm and raise his baby daughter and five year old son. I had every intention of telling my would be husband the truth of the matter that I was male and not female and come clean as well as pay him back the small fortune he had spent on me."

"Small fortune." snorted Adam. "more like every last dime I had in my savings at that time."

Duncan glared at his friend. "Adam had no intention to allow me to weasel out of that contract. He was already several months behind in getting his farm yielding up harvest. The children and the loss of his wife had done a lot to put him in dire straights." explained Macleod, blushing.

"Neither one of us had expected to meet another immortal," explained Adam. "At this time you could go virtually decades without running into our kind. So it came more as a shock to me that what I had done was purchased an immortal to become my wife. I was discouraged more than I could say that I had purchased an Immortal Female. I never get involved with Immortals if I can help it. And with the blasted woman being Immortal my misery could last a long time. A Marriage contract was taken very seriously in those days. You can then imagine part of my delight yet extreme puzzlement instead of a mortal female or Immortal one, I had a male instead." explained Adam. "It was funny," seeing Macleod's dark look, Adam sweated a little and amended, "Well, all right, I admit it not at first, but it was funny. Or rather it became pretty funny over the years and we came to laugh together about it, well alright not together, just me. Because unlike MacLeod I can take a joke."

"I can take a joke." Protested Duncan.

No one felt like contradicting him at least not while he still had the large monkey wrench in his hand.

* * *

**Flash back (1800s)  
**  
On reaching his new home Duncan Macleod stiffened as an ocean of presence swamped him. Dressed in pounds of petticoats and under skirts and feminine garments Duncan was ill prepared for a fight, even with his Katana at hand under his skirts he felt that if he fought now he would lose his head. He had images of his skirts getting under foot and tripping him up to an ill fated end. He just hoped the Immortal he now faced would show him some mercy some honor and not take his head just yet. 

His eyes were drawn to the lanky, dark haired, roman featured Immortal that stood before him. He looked tired and at his strength's end. The highlander's heart reached out to the unknown immortal with sympathy. He realized that this Immortal must be Doctor Adamson.

On his journey he had been told about his husband to be and his recent loss. Doctor Adamson was a good man, a doctor who helped his community and tended to the poor and rich equally. A good man who had suffered a terrible loss of his wife in their child's birth. He tried to save her but was only able to save the baby girl. with the loss of his wife and help meet he was floundering and unable to make a living. He needed a wife and a partner who would be willing to care for his home and children.

The lovelorn soldier took Duncan's hand and kissed the back of it. "He is a good man. He will treat you well. Till we meet again, adieu." he said he and his partner taking their leave of the property.

Methos for the most part could not believe his luck. He had run from every immortal to come his way in eight hundred years. Now due to a strange twist of fate he found himself in the position of breaking his number one rule "Never marry or get involved in a committed relationship to another Immortal!" Underlined, bold letters, his number one major rule.

The Immortal female was very handsome, strikingly beautiful in fact. Even if she was a little on the masculine side of femininity. Still he'd been married to worse looking females and on the upside been married to more lovely women before, but there was truly something magnetic about this Immortal female, almost like the magnetism he had felt three thousand years before for a similar female Immortal in a similar bit of circumstances, Cassandra. He shuddered and tried to shut out the memories that name and thoughts of similarities invoked in him. That wich was still hunting him to this day. She had a right to his head but Methos wasn't going to lay down and let her take him without running far and fast as he can and leave that particular encounter to the very furthest future possible.

Duncan knew he had three choices. Choice A) Pretend to be female until found out then get beheaded due to hurt manly pride. Choice B) Come right out and shock the man into a rage. Choice C) The same as choice A, hide behind my skirts and at the right time take my chances and make a run for it. No one can know of my shame or that I'm dressed like a woman and in this very unique and terrible situation.

Nearly three hundred years old and this is what you have to show for it, with all of your experiences how did you get yourself into this sort of situation? Haven't you learned anything during the centuries?

There were some hard, hard decisions that had to be made. Methos knew that female Immortals suffered greater than most males in the game. Females had been terrorized and enslaved all of their lives, victimized all throughout history and though women today were treated a little better than in centuries past, he knew that an Immortal female was bound to be a little more paranoid and a little more manipulative and a little more unpredictable than a male of the species and a hell of a lot more dangerous.

Methos had every intention of keeping the contact between them. He needed her. He needed to have his children looked after and he needed the townswomen, the available and not so available women to stop chasing after him. He wanted to live his life in some peace. Marriage would guarantee a little bit of that peace.

"Listen, I know we don't know one another. I know that we have nothing to trust between us and I realize now that the people parading as your brothers couldn't be your brothers in any blood relative way, sold you into a contract you probably aren't happy with. I do apologize for that. I swear to you I will not expect you to serve out the contract for all of our eternal lives. Nor do I have any intentions of taking your head. I know you can't trust me, but I do swear to you that you can trust me for the time being. I ask that you please serve this contract until my dead wife's children are adults, a decade maybe two at most. An equivalent of a mere blink of an eye in our immortal lives." he asked impassioned yet reasonably.

Duncan blinked. He couldn't say what it was that whispered to him to trust this unknown man. Maybe there was just something vulnerable and something too honest about the man. He looked warn thin, fragile. He felt ashamed anew for his dress and look. He should come clean now and explain what had happened. But how to explain something when you yourself are not sure of how it came to happen?

But one thing he knew without doubt that he had to do was come forward with the truth. The man needed to know the truth of his "wife". Taking a deep breath he let it out slowly and calmed his nerves then started unfastening his blouse.

Doctor Adamson protested. "Honestly you don't have to do that. As much as I would like to consummate our marriage its not necessary."

"Dunca MacLeed" glared then tore "her" blouse open, to Methos amazement he did not see breasts but rather a man's defined muscular chest. Methos blinked several times jaw hanging open. Was this Immortal one of those strange people who liked to think they were a female in a male body or was this Immortal a hermaphrodite? Very rare one of those, even in the mortal world, very rare.

"You must see that this marriage isn't going to work." insisted Duncan, brogue thick in his words making them almost indecipherable. But Methos' ear for language was discerning and he could easily interpret them accurately.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that Highlander." said Methos amused once his general shock wore off rather quickly but than again he was an adept at survival and at getting over shock quickly. He was very adaptable it had come in handy surviving all the years that he had with his mind still in tact. An Immortal unable to get over things quickly was a dead Immortal in the game.

Now it was the Highlander's turn to be shocked by the amusement he heard in the musical British baritone. A Sassenach and a Scotsman, oh no, such a marriage was not going to work.

"But." protested Macleod. "We're both men."

"Listen Macleod - Right? Connor Macleod's younger kin, Duncan right?"

Duncan tried to deny it but lying had never come easy to him. After starting and stopping a few times clearing his throat, he gave in, sighing he shook his head in exasperation.  
"Fine, Aye, I am Duncan Macleod of the Clan Macleod. Just for God's sakes don't let Connor find out about this, alright?"

Methos smiled a smile that with the coming years Duncan would come to know very intimately, it was enigmatic, non-judgmental, graceful in victory.

"Listen Duncan, I have spent an awful lot of money on you and you signed the contract. Your writing is almost illegible but now that I know who you really are. I can tell you from this contract that your name is on it and you will serve it out. I can't afford another "wife" or the expense that travel will induce on me for providing her accommodations. Nor do I have the time to waste in waiting. Oh no Macleod, you are going to serve out this bloody contract and you'll do it in that dress until those kids are adults or until my new harvest yields me a fortune, whichever comes first."

Macloed's jaw hung open he glowered. "Now just wait a damned minute!" protested the younger Macleod. "This is not going to happen."

Methos shoved the signed paper into Macleod's face under his nose for brown doe eyes to read the strong masculine script "Duncan Macleod" signed on the wife's dotted line.

"Are you so without honor Macleod that you will not abide by your word on paper?" The eyes were fierce and the knowledge in their depths were cheeky telling him to call his bluff.

Macleod's cheeks blazed as did his eyes. "How dare yew!" he gasped. "I am not without honor." he protested defensively. "I have plenty of honor. You're the one being irrational… and…. And I'm a man! You can't expect me to wear a dress and to be your wife." hissed Macleod.

Methos smirked. "Yes I do. Just think Macleod, its only a decade, its nothing worth getting your frilly skirts in a knot over."

Macleod choked. "Please, I beg you, don't' make me go through with this."

"Sorry Macleod. I can't and I won't. I suggest you fix your blouse and come with me inside where my kids are waiting."

"Yew bastard. Have yew no heart? No shame? How are yew going to explain this to people? If Connor finds out about this… if anyone finds out about this…."

"We'll be burned alive or stoned, I have no doubt." said Methos, simply. "So I suggest you embrace your role and live it every minute for the next decade if you don't want anyone to find out about this. Not to mention I think Connor would probably just laugh himself sick over this situation, the man has a more twisted sense of humor than I do."

Duncan Macleod of the Clan Macleod glowered, heart sick and promising revenge on Kit and Walter and on the heartless Doctor Adamson.

"You'll regret this." promised Macleod, stubbornly.

"Do your worst Macleod, short of taking my head that is. You wouldn't be so dishonorable as to leave my defenseless children orphans would you?"

"Yew fucking bastard."

"Language, Macleod." tutted Methos.

"What do you expect of me Adamson? I am not a nursemaid. I know nothing of raising baerns."

"You may not be a nurse maid but you are my sixty-eighth wife and I have faith in you Macleod from all that I have heard of you and your kinsman I am sure you will learn quickly how to go about raising, as you call them, wee baerns, well enough I am sure." insisted Methos, unperturbed.

Macleod choked some more. "Heartless." he gasped. Hissed in shocked horror. "Sixty-Eighth wife? What! How old are yew?" demanded Macleod.

"Old enough." smirked Methos.

Macleod fumed and grumbled. "That's insane, sixty-eight wives, what did you do to them all? Murder them?"

Macleod was having a hard time dealing with that knowledge. He'd been tempted perhaps twice in his long life to wed and if this man was anything like Duncan than that could mean this man was practically ancient, perhaps even older than ancient, if such things existed.

Methos glared at him. Temper sparking in his tired hazel eyes. "No Macleod, the times are what killed them. War, old age, disease. I was lucky if I had a wife live longer then a decade after I was married to them. If it was foul play it sure as hell wasn't my deeds at work on them. They were mortal and the times were hard.

Fuming Macleod followed the lanky Immortal into his home and buttoning up his female over coat he made himself presentable to meet the baby girl and the little boy who would be in his keeping for the next decade. He would not make the kids suffer because they were innocent in all of this but he would not rest untill he'd made Doc Adamson pay and pay and pay for making him keep to the letter of the contract he'd signed while drugged.

* * *

**TBC**

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTERS 4-5 available (Chapters 6 through the Ending is in the works and coming soon.)

* * *

IF YOU DISLIKE FICS LIKE THIS PLEASE DO NOT READ IT OR FLAME ME. I Do however enjoy feedback so feel free to leave a review. Thank you kindly, jazzy.

* * *

Mail-Order-Brides (Highlander style): Something Unexpected**

**Written by: Jazzy  
Pairing: Methos/Duncan  
Rating: MA / Mature**

**_Summary: A rewrite of Duncan Macleod's first meeting with the Ancient man known as Methos. Story takes place between the present and the past, in the old west. A Farmer needs a wife and instead he gets something totally unexpected._**

**_Warning: a total AU, angst, drama, Hurt-comfort, m/m romance, m/m coupling, non con, torture, and recovery._**

**

* * *

****- THE PRESENT - **

"Even to this day I still cannot believe that he made me stick to letter of that contract. He would not let me out of that contract for anything. It almost seemed the more I tried to take out revenge on Adam the more perverse pleasure he took in sticking that bloody contract under my nose and making me keep to it."

Adam did what he always did when Macleod mentioned this fact. He smirked and took a sip of his beer.

**

* * *

- Flashback (1800s) -  
**  
In spite of himself Macleod found it was instantaneous the love he felt quicken his breast and squeeze his heart in a painful vice when he looked into the sad green eyes of the little boy and the innocent wide blue eyes of the infant girl. He hadn't expected the lightening fast reflexive kick in his diaphragm that was the reaction of love. 

Adamson introduced his baby girl with a kiss to her forehead, red burnished curls soft and downy on her head, tickled his lips. He turned to Macleod eyes shining with parental pride. "This is my sweet Madeline, my baby girl."

When he reached for the baby girl his hands shook. The little boy gazed on him somberly. Adamson hugged his son then turned once more to Macleod watching him avidly getting acquainted with his baby.

"This is my son." he said it with a relished kind of pride that made Duncan's heart swell. Adamson was totally opposite of his own father. The Macleod had a hard love and it took much to make him proud but for Adamson just the mere existence of this little boy and that he was blood to his dead wife was price enough for pride. "Michael."

Duncan bent down to better make eye contact make himself less large and looming, troubled green eyes searched wide compassionate brown eyes.

"It is good to meet you, young Michael." said Macleod.

"You're going to be our new mother?" he asked, eyes showing pain.

"I can never take your mother's place" Insisted Macleod gently. "But I would like to be your friend." said Macleod, instinctively realizing that he couldn't force his affections on the child only offer them and hope they would be accepted and some day be returned in kind.

The boy nodded acceptance then gentlemanly like offered to show Macleod the house and the property in a tour. Doctor Adamson looked on his adoptive son with pride and tender love. He reached down and brushed his son's hair in a caress of support.

"Good man." said Methos, quietly. "I'll be out in the fields. Dinner will hopefully be ready no later than Eight. Thank you, Highlander."

Macleod glared over the top of the baby's head and behind Michael's back. Methos shivered at the animosity there. Knowing it was more about pride and the Scottish barbarian's sense of shame than anything else. Yet he suspected he would still have to be careful, the highlander was not going to make their marriage a peaceful one and for some reason Methos was looking forward to the clash of wills, something about Duncan Macleod re-energized him and enchanted him all at once. He was looking forward to their years spent together.

"I mean Dunca." he corrected hastily, smirking all the same. "Thank you, Dunca dear." He kissed both of his children then left them to Macleod to take care of; house, hearth, and children were now all in the highlander's domain.

Macleod glared, lips thinned, eyes narrowed. Methos's smirk widened to a grin of obnoxious proportions.

"Don't thank me just yet, Adamson." he muttered darkly. Young Michael looked up at him quizzically. On seeing the child's expression Macleod instantly softened his own expression then charmingly redirected the child's attentions to the tour Michael had offered him. The child didn't smile but he didn't look quizzical either. Michael took Duncan's hand and like any gentleman put it to rest in the crook of his elbow, then led the way through the house and through the three stories and several bedrooms and living areas, and kitchen and pantry then the barn and immediate land around the house and barn and chicken coop.

The farm was sprawling and huge, it went on for acres. Yet it did show some signs of neglect. This farm would be lucky to make the harvest this year. Macleod noted with an experienced eye.

"How does your father manage such a farm and his doctor practices?" he asked intrigued. The little boy shrugged.

"We have neighbors who help and workers that come from all over, but Da spent their wages on bringing you here, Ms. Macleod."

"Call me…" he had to think of something else besides Mac or Duncan for the kid to call him and especially something less formal then Ms. Macleod, not to say just how strange it was to hear his name so twistedly used. " Call me Mackey." though he hated that name it was better than that stupid feminized version of Duncan, Dunca! Good God, what were those morons thinking in naming him Dunca. Did he look German-Swedish whatever nationality it was, to them? Mackey was at least tolerable.

"Yes, Ma'am, Mackey, I mean." said the somber child.

"Now about this farm. Does it have many hands?"

"Not many."

"But enough, am I to make them meals as well?"

"No. Not unless you wish to. Da never asked Ma to be the cook for the masses, but Ma did every now and again when she felt strong enough. We have two men who do the cooking for the field workers." explained Michael.

"I see, so I just tend to the two of you and your Father. I can do that." He felt better about staying closer to the house and inside away from prying eyes. It would mean less chance of discovery and minimizing the danger for the kids and him and Adamson. People would think he was shy, even a recluse or anti-social but it didn't matter to him what people thought of Adamson or his new wife as long as they weren't discovered and treated like perverts.

Adamson's supper was not edible. His clothes when ironed ended up burnt in places like his meals. Baths were ice cold. Duncan's displeasure with Adamson was not hidden from Adamson when they were alone, but when the children were present Mac hid his animosity behind civil manners and courtly behavior, in other words contempt hidden in innuendos that were very cutting wrapped in velvet.

Macleod was very talented in speaking poison with sweet tones and pointed faked expressions. Though there was the odd incident or two over time when the Highlander through some huge bout of stress or amazing displeasure would let his Highland temper loose on Adamson. Sometimes it meant frying pan to the back of the head, or books flying with accuracy at that same head, scalding soup or tea poured into his lap, furious whispers and hisses during arguments.

Methos patiently suffered through it all letting Duncan's ill will bleed out and letting his unhappiness with Methos' high handed behavior come to an end, yet it seemed that end was nowhere in site as Macleod found new things every day to hold against Methos' head. Methos own patience frayed at times and that was usually when he found an excuse to head into town. He kept his troubles to himself not wanting local gossips or spiteful women to get their hooks once more into him.

They of course attended church, Macleod insisted on it. He kept his mouth shut and his masculine nature hidden even more when they were in town or in church. Scarves around his throat or face, holding back thick mounds of luscious raven curls that though let loose at home and were spell-binding with the touch of the sun's rays, were usually bound sloppily behind colorful tacky scarves.

Methos and he had come up with a story that "Dunca" was from France and did not know much English, this also helped the curious glances at his many coverings and defensive postures. The townswomen were not happy that Adamson had sent away for a wife and were even less happy that his wife was a foreigner. Yet what endured the woman to her peers was her show of love for the two motherless children and her devotion to her husband.

The French were not looked on favorably and many had misconceptions that the French women were hussies and sluts. "Dunca" did not give off that impression. She was stern and fired off rappid French in a husky voice that was sharp and often had Adamson wincing. It was obvious that Adamson was not making "Dunca" happy, yet oddly enough Adamson was loyal to Dunca even doted on her as he had Alexa, possibly even more so than Alexa.

Women looked on Dunca enviously. Men looked on Adamson enviously. A French beauty firebrand, something for their fantasies, a woman to tame. Adamson defended his claim and insisted they were happily married and Dunca was shy and ill tempered when she was off the farm, but devout to the church and was willing to fight her shyness to go to church.

It was a year before things started to settle down for them. Methos was content, though there was still a bundling board between them in the bedroom at least when they were conscious. As tempers died down they started making nice with one another. Mac had grown more and more in love with the children and was like a mama duck with her ducklings. The highlander was a natural nurturer.

Methos felt a pesky feeling growing in his breast where it came to the tempestuous highlander. He knew himself well enough after five thousand years to know when a certain feeling growing in one's breast was love. Who wouldn't fall in love with Duncan? Many of the townspeople were enchanted by "Dunca". Men looked with envy and Methos couldn't help being proud of his "wife". Michael and Madeline loved Duncan greatly as well.

He watched his children with Duncan. He watched Michael rough house and play and hug the Highlander, growing more and more in love with his new mother daily. Macleod was careful not to be seen outside of his dress and feminine clothes and mannerisms. He played the role well even if on occasion he let his guard down and sometimes seemed more man than woman.

He gazed at Macleod hanging the wash up to dry, watched the Highlander's hair sway loosely in the wind down his back, hair so long and lustrous that Methos' fingers itched to get lost in those locks, comb his fingers through the dark curls and tangle and get lost in the silken mass. His mouth watered to taste the long neck and turned up corner of pouty lips. He felt his cock harden and he groaned out loud as he watched Macleod smile and take a lusty bite into a ripe juicy apple, sweet nectar ran invitingly down the corners of his plump lips and ran off his chin. Methos felt his cock twitch. He crossed his legs and squirmed telling himself to think of something un-sexy.

Think cows. He told himself. Cows turned to plump grade A Highland Man Beefcake. Think chickens he told himself and chickens turned to a well turned pretty ankle, ankle turned into shapely legs. Legs that he caught an eyeful of every night just before turning in for bed when Macleod's nightgown would lift as he climbed into bed and tried to arrange bedclothes and bed covers. Macleod was irresistible.

Sometimes if he was lucky he would wake early in the morning and Macleod in his sleep had managed to dislodge the bundle board and had wrapped himself warmly and bodily around Methos' lean thin form. Having that bulky, hard body tightly hugging his own made him feel impossible things, wonderful warm sexy things. He ached for Macleod but he willed himself to be patient, willed himself not to arouse Macleod's temper and give Duncan something more to hold against him. They had just found some peace with one another he didn't want to jeopardize that.

So he carefully climbed out of the bed, carefully arranged the covers and carefully stroked a sleeping highland brow. Then he would get ready for his long day of treating the ill and helping to plant his fields.

When it came to the harvest Macleod pitched in with strength and a fortitude that many of the workers admired. Madeline tied to his back, a bonnet keeping her protected from the sun. Michael at his side, small scythes cutting grass and wheat. Methos never felt so proud of any of his accomplishments as he had with his time with Macleod and these two children of theirs.

Michael was won over, his face showed an open love for both Mackey and the baby (once a thing he resented for with Maddie's birth had come the death of his Ma) but now he loved Madeline as much as his Da and new Ma did. He loved both parents new and old and his baby sister. He almost wished his parents would make a new baby but he didn't want to lose Mac as he had his real Ma the year and a half before.

Life was good.

They lived contentedly.

* * *

Methos didn't want to ruin the peace and the growing love in his life. He looked at his "wife" and his children and his heart swelled. This was what life was supposed to be about. This was what it should always be like. But with ages old wisdom he knew it couldn't last. But he hoped it would last long enough, a decade, one decade that's all he asked for. Every week in church he prayed to a God he wasn't sure he believed in, a God he had seen rise up into a fanatic cult that had swept the known world in the thousands of years in his life time, he prayed to this God and to all the others who had come before him, let this last a decade he begged. "Please let it last, a decade at the very least, please."

Macleod's hand in his during the church sermons. Macleod's smiling eyes and warmth. This was his friend. This was his love. And he didn't want to see it end any time soon.

Their happiness lasted five years. Near the end of the fifth year Macleod had accepted him in every way had even grown to love Methos in return and now when they went to bed it was as lovers. Mac let him into his eager hot body night after night and Methos let him into his own as well. They grew into a truly equal relationship. Yet Methos never told Macleod who he really was or how old he was and Macleod accepted him anyway. Washed away every sin and every bit of pain and blood soaked memory away with every kiss and caress, with every minute the Highlander loved him. He never wanted to see that love dimmed. He never wanted Macleod to see the truth. That when he took Methos "Adamson" into his body he took Death into his bed, into the deep core warmth of him, and burned the cold chill of the grave from Methos' bones. Incinerated the depravities of the past, incinerated every sin he'd ever committed, every death, every atrocity, he'd ever committed in his long harsh life. He had never known this depth of emotion, this depth of love in his life.

Macleod' quickening sang to him and welcomed him, gentle waves, rivers running into rivers into the vast ocean of his own quickening and called to him "mine, my own, my beloved".

* * *

**Some months later**

Silas, his gentle giant brother, came into town to visit. Methos had been at first fearful of the reunion yet Silas seemed to dote on both children because Methos doted on them. Methos watched Maddie grow attached to Silas and vice versa, watched them tend to the lambs and the animals on the farm. Watched the two become doting uncle and beloved niece.

Duncan was at first uncertain of Silas but watching the giant with his children and with his "husband" he had grown to care for the gentle giant almost as much as Methos cared for his brother. Dunca was charming and could cook better than anyone either Older Immortal had ever known.

Methos made jokes. "You are lucky Brother, that you've come to visit as my darling's temper has finally settled. I died three times from poisoning!"

The giant roared with laughter. Reminded of memories three thousand years before of another woman Methos had taken to his bed. A witch with a temper and an active mind that reprimanded her lover her master at every opportunity.

Silas watched his brother and this new woman and though he was not bright and rarely knew what love was he could see it in Methos. He could see his Brother was happy and was in turn loved. He envied and was happy for his brother's joy. Of course he soon grew to covet Dunca's cooking as much as Methos did and as the seasons turned he was reluctant to leave his favorite brother or his brother's new family. A family he'd been lucky to be part of even if for a short while.

Dunca insisted he stay. Little Maddie pouted and begged her "Uncle Silas" to stay and help her with the rabbits, but the giant knew he had to go. Methos hugged him hard and fought tears. "Are you sure you must go Silas? Our fire is warm our home is open to you. Dunca has grown to care for you as if you were blood of her blood. I worry about you Silas out there alone."

Silas smiled and hugged Methos and Dunca bone crushing hugs that took their breath away. "You are my family and I will love and miss you all but I have many duties in Ukraine to attend to. The forest and the animals need me. I take care of them."

"I understand Silas." said Methos. Duncan put his arm around Methos' shoulders, giving comfort. Madeline hugged her Ma's leg and buried her sobbing face into her skirt. Duncan's free hand petted her downy curls. Michael was bravely standing tall and being strong like his Dad and new Ma. He was in his early teens almost a man. He would not cry.

"You will be back to visit us?" Michael inquired bravely, voice shaking a little.

"Of course I shall come back in a while." insisted Silas, his smile wide and loving. "I shall teach you to ride and be gentle with your horse."

"We all look forward to it." said Duncan for them all. "safe journey Silas."

"Thank you Dunca and thank you M-uh-Adam." he corrected himself quickly embarrassed by his near slip. Methos didn't want Dunca or the children to know his real name. "I will be safe and see you all again soon. I promise."

* * *

**-A weeks later -**

Not long after his departure another relative came calling this time a sandy haired Scotsman with twisted humor and old eyes.

"Connor!" cried Duncan, both delighted and yet horrified that his kinsman had at last found him in the new territories and in the guise of a woman.

Connor laughed himself sick. "I have come to free you, my dove." he said tears still pouring down his cheeks from his laughter.

Methos and Duncan glowered.

"Stop teasing me, Connor. I have no choice in the matter. I unwittingly signed a contract somewhere and now I have no wish to break it. I have children and Adamson needs me." Explained Duncan.

Connor looked with knowing eyes on his kinsman and on the older immortal. But his eyes lighted on the two children running out of the chicken pen laughing and teasing and throwing hay and dirt at one another. Duncan had a family. He had found his joy. But how long would it last? Connor hadn't ever wanted to see Duncan in pain.

"This life is a dream Duncan. Those children will grow and watch over the years as neither one of you ages. What will you tell them when you have not a gray hair on your head or lines on your face of age? Our lives are a danger to them. The game will not spare them Duncan."

Duncan had looked to Adamson, and Adamson had put his arms around his wife's waist sword in both their hands. One a 13th century blade and the other of Asian make, Katana and Broadsword. One of power, one of grace, each deadly in their own way, each ready to protect and defend the other and all they held dear.

"This life you have it will not last, Duncan. You will have to take up your name and your face again. You will have live in this world as an Immortal man again some day soon."

"I know that Connor!" growled Duncan. "But I'm happy for now. Can't you let me be happy for now?"

Connor watched the children freeze, watching their "mother" and "father" and the stranger on the speckled mare. He searched both Duncan's eyes and quickening and searched the ancient one beside his kinsman, searched hazel eyes that were both warm and cold, compassionate and afraid. This one loved Duncan. They loved one another. He let the tension die slowly. Let the adrenaline calm let the battle frenzy and fears leave his heart.

"Who am I to judge? Do I look like a beggar in sack cloth to you with a bible in my hand cousin?" he demanded suddenly. Eyes warm again and sparkling with wit that seemed to please Adamson. Duncan only scowled and glowered some more.

"Don't expect a warm welcome from me you cantankerous old bastard!" growled Duncan.

"No food? No shelter? Whatever happened to the famous highland hospitality, my fair cousin?" asked Connor, grin turning more cheeky with the more Duncan was unsettled.

Adamson threw back his head and laughed. "Watch out Connor Macleod of the Clan Macleod. Dunca has learned some mean tricks with her cooking."

Connor raised an eyebrow and watched Duncan, "Dunca", blush.

"Yew bastard, will ye noht let it go? I was upset and unhappy, yew were forcing my hand." grumbled Duncan, half whine half plea for understanding.

"Dancing unholy glee in your eyes each time I died in agony. No, Highlander junior, I don't believe I can ever just let it go. Though I have to admit that you've made up very well for it lately. I eat like a king Connor, and Dunca takes care of my every whim and treats me like a king as well."

Duncan snorted and thumped him in the back of his head. Methos grinned.

"See, my turtledove can't keep her hands off me." he said cheekily. Connor laughed.

"So I see."

Duncan frowned. "Go ahead and make fun, both of yew, but it's the floor yew'll be sleeping in tonight, I promise ye, if ye keep goin on in that vein for much longer."

The children took their mother's side of course and both Methos and Connor were treated to haughty nose in the air glares of reproach from all three youths.

"Sorry Dunca." they said in unison. Each one then tried to flatter and entice Duncan into forgiving them. Duncan held his grudge well past dinner before relenting and relaxing against Adamson on the love seat in the gathering room. The children on the carpet on the floor near the cozy fire. The evening was taken up with games and laughter and sharing memories with each other. A true family reunion and meeting of the new members.

* * *

- THE PRESENT -

"It was a wonderful time." said Methos, quietly, feeling Macleod's arms around his shoulders and Mac's cheek resting against his neck.

"The happiest any one of us has ever been." insisted Duncan quietly. Eyes glowing with the memories. "I don't want to think of the next part of it Adam. I just want to remember this part for now. Can't we just remember this part?"

Adam ducked his head. His heart ached. Duncan sounded small, vulnerable, a child again asking a parent to make the bad things stay away. He couldn't deny Duncan anything. He never could once his heart had taken to Duncan in its fullest measure of commitment.

Richie and Joe watched the vulnerability. Watched the pain flash across both faces. Watched tears begin in Duncan's eyes and tears fiercely held back in Adam's.

"For now, we can." agreed Adam. Hands shaking he stroked Mac's hair. "For now, let's only remember them as they were meant to be remembered. Happy and alive and deeply loved."

Richie watched his teacher and felt helpless to help him, as helpless as he'd felt when Tessa had been killed on his watch. How did he try to make up for that? How did he try to help Duncan move on? Yet seeing Duncan with Adam; Richie wondered if Duncan had already moved on and it was himself was having the troubles moving on with his life. Should he ask them how to do that? Yet he could see something between them wasn't settled with, something from their past wasn't moved on from yet.

Something that was to this day still hurting them.

**

* * *

Chapter Four**

"Another get well basket, get well card, thank you card, get well chocolates…" muttered Methos ill concealed mix of humor and jealousy at play in his tone of voice, even as bedevilment danced in his hypnotic hazel eyes.

Duncan snorted. "Yes, and to think I have several more weeks of this nonsense to survive through."

"I wonder… if I had been injured would I have received half so many gifts of affections?" asked Methos sounding hurt.

"Of course you would have." Insisted Joe from behind his laptop. "The watchers in research would have sent you plenty of get well gifts and I know I would have extended your bar tab." He was typing up his impression and his notes of the two Immortals interactions with one another and on their history together.

Methos pouted. "Why couldn't I have gotten injured? Extended bar tab Mac, extended bar tab."

Mac frowned. "Don't encourage him Joseph; he has a drinking problem."

"Dean Miranda is coming up the path with a couple more students Mac." Alerted Richie.

"Damn, visiting hours, send them away Rich. Tell them I'm too tired. Doctors' orders or something." Insisted Mac, diving back onto the couch and striking a pose of pathetic illness.

He was tired of playing sick and invalid. He wanted to be left alone. When had Dean Miranda turned into a mother hen? In all the years Duncan had known her she had never seemed this concerned before with the well being of her teachers. Not to say she wasn't a caring human being it was just she never did house calls before and now here she was practically camping on their doorstep.

Methos seemed to read Mac's mind. "Now Duncan stow the scowl. She's been through a terrible shock, as have the students. You were shot, you were super hero Macleod to the rescue. You brought this on yourself now man up to it and take it like the highland barbarian I know you are."

"Gee, thanks." Growled Mac. He scowled at Adamson's grin and at the well known twinkle in the older Immortal's eyes.

Dean Miranda entered the humble, well kept house, obviously a man's home though it was a lot cleaner than most men's, not that she had been to a lot of men's homes just the few that she had been to, well, there just wasn't a word polite enough for those places, pig pens.

There a few pictures on the mantle, some of them very old, antiques from the look of them. Pictures of older generations of Duncan Macleods, and the women in those Duncans lives, perhaps grandmothers or aunts? Also a present day picture of Tessa, Duncan and Richie.

There was also a picture of an older generation Duncan and of a man that looked distinctly like Adam Pierson only with glasses on his regal nose, it looked to be maybe that Macleod's grandfather and Pierson's grandfather had known one another. That could explain their familiarity with one another, thought Miranda, but something in the photo told her she was looking at the same two men today as they were back then. The pain was still the same and the other thing, that look of love in their eyes was the same as well.

Adam grabbed the photo off the mantle and gave it a frown. "where did this come from, I wonder?"

Duncan scowled from his position on the couch. "I found it while I was tidying up my old keepsake chest."

"Oh, yes, I remember this picture now. We were at some state fair somewhere and had an old fashioned photo taken. We were much younger then." Lied Adam, hoping Miranda swallowed the lie with little questions asked.

Dean Miranda studied the two men and felt her instincts scream, "hello! Mystery! He just lied to us." But she decided to let it go for now, after all it was ridiculous to think that the photo wasn't what Adam said it was.

"It looks very real though." She murmured.

"Yes, quite." Said Adam, smiling brightly. "Mac knew a very talented camera lady who took this." The best lies were always partial truths.

"She does amazing work; do you think she might consider doing pictures for the senior formal for us?"

Adam shook his head sadly, "No, I'm afraid she died not long after this picture was taken." He replied sadly.

"Yes." Agreed Macleod mournfully. "Cancer."

"Oh, Mac, I'm so sorry." Said Miranda, very sympathetic. She had lost her own mother to cancer only a couple years previously.

"Yes, well it was more than fifteen years ago. I miss her, but life carries on. And I'm starting to feel a little tired. I think the drugs the doctor gave me are finally kicking in." Macleod lied rather smoothly for a goody to shoes.

"Oh! Alright, children give Macleod your gifts and then lets be on our way. We don't wish to cause him any more pain today." Insisted Miranda, taking charge once more. The children nervously gave him their cards and get well wishes then marched in line out the door.

* * *

With his house finally empty Macleod looked at the time on the wall and then outside to see if the sun would last long enough for a routine exercise or a Kata or two, he scowled at the darkening sky, no time for practice just enough time to get ready for bed. 

"We should really discuss what happened today." Said Joe.

"Yes, we should but I'm rather exhausted and I think I'm going to head to bed. Adam you are welcomed to the guest room if you like? Richie do you minding taking the couch?"

"Nah, Mac, I'll be fine. I've got a room I'm renting while I'm in town."

"Are you sure Rich? You should consider saving your money. I have plenty of room for you here and Adam to."

"Nah, Mac, really, I'm okay."

"Rich" Mac protested as Adam's hand fell on Mac's arm cutting off his words.

Adam interrupted. "Mac, let the boy go. He's an adult. He can care for himself. You raised him well and he has some smarts. He's got survival on the brain Mac. Trust me. Young Ryan will be fine without your mother-hen routine."

Mac was not happy he sighed and reluctantly let Richie go without a further word then he turned towards his bedroom and left them in peace.

* * *

"Thanks Adam. Mac means well but boy can he be restricting." 

"You mean suffocating, Ryan." Grinned the older Immortal. "You know why he does it though, don't you?"

"Because he cares about me, and I think it might also have something to do with your guys' history, your guys' son, right?"

Adam's smile dimmed and became very sad, "Yes. You're a lot brighter than I thought you were. Very astute."

Richie frowned. "Gee thanks." He said sarcastic like his mentor and foster father.

Adam smiled. "You're welcome."

As Duncan slept Methos made some tea for the two who were still awake and for himself.

He looked at Joe and at Macleod's student, Richie.

"Its been a long day." He sighed.

"Its weird that you know Mac's system of cupboards." Said Richie.

Methos chuckled. "Not really. When you think about it I was married to the man, still am, I suppose, for about thirty years, then off and on for well until the present I suppose, so possibly as long as Gina and Robert a little less than them of course, a little less than two hundred years, give or take a few decades here and there, and well Mac's style in the kitchen hasn't changed at all in all the time I've known him, lived with him and lived apart from him."

"Its just so weird this whole thing. I mean. Mac loved Tessa. He loves women! I mean I have never seen him with another man, not ever." Insisted Richie.

Joe nodded. "His chronicles say the same thing. But there is a note we did lose him in the 1800s for a bit before finding him again just before the start of world war one. That was when he'd become an ambulance driver and was found in the company of Doctor Burns. A notable Immortal psychiatrist."

"Yes, Sean was a friend of Darius and of mine. Duncan needed help. A lot of it, after what Koren did to us, to him, to our daughter." He closed his eyes in pain. Memories for Immortals were always hard.

"I've told you most of the humor side of our meeting but there were some real issues between us. Mac was content for the most part but he wasn't as happy as he could have been. Women though treated better in the country as competent were still women and property of their husbands. Mac chafed under the yoke of my "dominance" quote unquote. Mac was and still is a free spirit. He doesn't like being held down unless by choice, by honor, duty, for integrity's sake. For the most part Mac was my hostage in a golden cage."

He took a moment to regroup his thoughts and putting some attention to the quietly boiling tea pot.

"We loved one another, I think, no, I know we did. We loved one another greatly, or at least I loved him greatly. I know we have grown a lot since then. I know he still loves me today, possibly in the romantic sense, possibly not but I know that I still love him today as much as I loved him back then, possibly more so. But our timing has never been very good. And our love keeps growing and changing over the many decades since our first meeting. So much has happened between us. So many things tht have gone wrong. When things were good they were very good but when thingswent bad they went very very bad for us."

He paused to pour the boiling water out of the kettle and into the little tea pot and allowed tea and water to steep for a moment before he continued to speak.

"This is the part I must ask you never to reveal to anyone. When you hear Mac refer to a dark time, or darkness within himself, this is to what he refers, this is what it is all about. This is why he is what he is today. And partly why he tries so hard to keep you safe, Ryan."

His eyes focused backward on the past. "He doesn't speak of it. He won't speak of it, at least not outright. You have to look for the clues and by then often times it's too late to save him from the memories."

He cast his own memories farther still.

**

* * *

The 1800s**

_The farm. _

Boys grow up and they want to be independent. Dunca was being unreasonable. Michael was determined to be his own man. He wanted to explore the territory, climb the rocks behind their property, search for valuable minerals, ore, gold, silver, whatever. He liked the farm but he was more fascinated with rocks and getting rich. He wanted to impress some girls and start making a living for himself and make a good prospect for the girl he would someday meet and marry.

Dunca did not want him anywhere near the rocks.

"They are dangerous, you could fall. You know nothing of rock climbing. You could die." Chop, went the chicken's head up by its little legs it was hung to drain. Michael winced.

_Did Mama have to butcher the chicken like that and in front of him?_

Methos snickered. His son wasn't much of a hunter too gentle of heart to kill even an animal bread for the slaughter.

Dunca pointed the butcher's knife at their son driving the point home. "You can't even hunt. You're father and I have tried and tried to teach you survival skills and you balk at it. No. I wont see you fall to your death. Stop being irrational."

"You stop being irrational." Cried Micheal.

Back talk? Dunca's eyes widened first with shock then blazed. Pure Cheek! Disrespect.

"What did you just say to me?" he demanded, shocked, starting to get angry. Their son was back talking. If he let the boy get away with it now Michale would think it acceptable and keep doing so for the rest of their lives. Such disrespect was not to be tollerated. "I didn't raise you to say such things to me."

* * *

Present 

"I don't know who was more shocked, Duncan or myself. In all the years previously when I had raised Michael on my own he never once back talked. Not once. I think it was Duncan rubbing off on the boy. But don't let Duncan know I said that. Duncan doesn't know it of himself but he's very vocal and very stubborn, he can be pretty disrespectful at times. And he tends to rub his bad influences on people like molasses on popcorn."

Ryan choked on his tea. MacLeod and bad influences did not compute. Joe snorted. If anyone had bad influences it wa Adam.

* * *

Back to Flashback 

Methos was just as stunned as Mac by the boy's sudden backbone. Who knew the kid had it in him? Methos choked on his morning tea and tried to bury his nose as far as possible into his morning, months old, newspaper.

"Did you just hear what your son just said to me?" demanded Dunca, butcher knife dangerously waving about in a show of ill temper. "Adamson, are you listening to this?"

Pierce Adamson slunk even lower into his chair and tried even harder to hide behind his newspaper. Affairs of the household were Duncan's domain and Methos really didn't want to get involved. He didn't want to take sides.

Fresh in his memory were the first turbulent couple of years with Macleod, they were just now in the last year or so finding a lot of peace and harmony and he liked his sex life. Yet, his son was giving him the look. His heart hurt, torn, who to side with?

"Oh, my god! Is that the time?" he gasped, faked, as he scrambled out of the kitchen pocket watch in hand. "I forgot I was to help Mrs Watson with the birthing this morning."

"You helped her yesterday. Come back here." Screamed Macleod. "You coward!"

Adamson ran out to the fields and far away from the domestic scene of young pup bucking dominant pup's hold.

Voices rose high and far out into the fields. Mother and son had a huge roe. Michael fled. He ran away from home.

Screaming. "stop treating me like a child."

"Stop acting like one." Was Dunca's last resounding retort.

Then realizing what Michael was doing. Dunca began to run after her son. Dunca fell tripped over the hymn of her dress and broke her ankle because women's shoes with their high heel were not meant to be run in.

Cursing a blue streak Macleod screamed after their son. "Come back, Michale, come back, ya fool!"

Adamson helped Dunca to stand up and got a shove in the ribs for it. "Yew bastard! That boy is going to get himself killed and you did nothing to stop him, nothing!" Dunca roared.

Adamson was locked out of the bedroom and ended up sleeping in the kitchen fitfully by the low fire. It couldn't be guilt. Adamson didn't do guilt. He hadn't felt guilt since the well, 13th century, possibly.

* * *

The present 

"How old are you?" asked Joe, choking on his tea. It was hard to believe the man sitting across from him could possibly be that old. He barely looked in his mid twenties. but than again this was an immortal. They carreid their ages very well, after all they never aged after their first death.

Richie "Yeah, ditto."

"Remember Ryan, its not the young ones that have to worry in a relationship like mine and Mac's it's the old ones, but I suppose depending on how power hungry your friend or lover is, I guess age really has nothing to do with it."

"That doesn't answer the question." Protested, Joe.

Adam smirked enigmatically then continued with the personal history lesson.

* * *

Back to the flashback 

Adamson slept poorly as did Dunca. Young Madeline was fretful and irritable which was not in her nature. She was concerned for her brother and for her parents. When Michael did not come home that night there was a search for him the next morning. Duncan was beside himself with worry. He fretted terribly.

In his shawl and nightgown Dunca made breakfast, a tasteless porridge and hearty sausage that was also tasteless. Dunca would not stay home to wait in silence and patience for the men to search. She went hunting with her daughter on her back like an Indian maid with a papoose, or like the scotswoman he was.

He tracked and hunted Michael but the tracks disappeared. Adamson also tried to track his son and nothing could be found. Adamson concluded that someone had taken Michael. Someone had waited patiently and stalked Michael like the human prey that he was.

Adamson's blood chilled.

Neighbors suggested Indians. The knife Adamson found sticking out of the bark of one of the trees near where Michael may have disappeared suggested an old acquaintance. A brother from the myths of times gone by. The metal was old and the hilt's design older still. Adam's heart seized in his chest.

He hid the knife from Duncan. He knew what creature had hunted their son and now held him hostage to ransom the return of a terrible thing and a price too high to pay for a mortal child.

* * *

**The Present**

"I hid the knife. I hid all evidence from Macleod. It was killing me. So I searched harder. Macleod dogged my every step. He searched on his own. I think he knew I was hiding something from him. I slept more often on the floor or outside in the cold during those days than any other time in our marriage. It gets really difficult to speak of now. Joe can we go to the bar? I need a stiff drink if I'm going to tell you the rest."

"Sure thing buddy."

"The rest is perfect for a Halloween story. Very ghoulish. Nightmare inducing, even a hundred years later." Said Adam, pain in his eyes, his voice bleak, though he made his words seem almost a joke; if it was meant to be a jest it was meant to be a mirthless morbid one.

The three of them quietly vacated the Macleod cottage, taking Joe's car to the bar where they sat down in a booth and swilled down a pitcher of beer and for Adam a triple shot of scotch.

"ooh, burns good." He hissed appreciatively. "good strong scotch."

Richie was uncertain if he wanted to learn any more of the strange history of Macleod and Pierson/Adamson, especially as it was about to take a turn for the tragic.

"If you want an explanation for why Macleod hovers over you Ryan, you will definitely want to stick around and take a listen. You'll be learning a lot from this next part. Stuff you are never to tell Duncan that you know. A lot of it I pieced together over the years, educated guesses, instinct, experience. And Gods know Duncan's a terrible actor. Keeping secrets make him ill. He hates dishonesty. An Immortal's life though is all about the secrets and dishonesty."

**

* * *

The Past, the 1800s**

Michael continued to be missing for over a week. Adamson and Macleod continued to be on the outs, the family was under a lot of stress and little Maddie grew more unsettled.

Koren came in the night and left gifts to taunt them with. Dots of rust on bits of torn cloth. Duncan's rage grew as did his fear. His child he had argued with. His child he was supposed to help mold into a man. The child he had managed to chase off into a terrible fate worse than death. He had caused this. He was to blame for their son's situation. He was at fault. He had chased Michael off. He had forced Michael to drastic measures to prove something to him and now this was their deserts.

Someone was playing a game with them, a sick, sick, game.

Duncan knew Adamson was trying to hide the presents, trying to hide the truth from him. If he hadn't argued with Michael; if he'd taken Michael hiking or climbing or had treated Michael differently instead of like a fragile child then possibly things might have turned out very differently. Duncan felt it was all his fault.

"I've failed as a mother." He mourned. "If we find him, I'll make it up to him. I won't let him out of my sight. I'll spend more time with him, spoil him, give him anything as long as he doesn't do this to me ever again. Just let him be alive." Macleod prayed. "Please God, sweet Jesus in heaven, let me find my son, alive."

He had to wonder if this wasn't something his own mother had felt the times he'd gone off on some stupid youthful foolery, or gone on some raid.

**

* * *

LATER The 1800s**

Koren used Michael as bait to tempt little Maddie and with little struggle and no cries of fear the little girl was snatched right out of her bed.

It was a game.

Her hair was cut and left behind on the pillow, a new unbearable taunt. Macleod was desperate. Adamson tried to comfort him. But nothing helped, nothing.

Both kids were gone and now in the grasp of an animal.

Koren couldn't be called human or Immortal he was pure evil.

A true monster.

A monster ancient and cunning and he wanted the one thing that Adamson, true name, Methos, was not going to give him, no matter the cost. Even if the children suffered. Which he knew they would. Their lives were not worth thousands of lives in return, no one's life was.

He would not give back the power Koren craved.

He would not help Koren to betray humanity.

Adamson was resolute. He watched his wife suffer night after night. He watched Duncan Macleod hunt day after day, and search endlessly, tirelessly, his endeavors futile. Adamson grieved. He knew they would not find the children alive.

He knew what the monster would do to them. No matter the flimsy bond of brotherhood that should have kept the children safe from Koren's evil hungers. Adamson knew Koren was a monster and insane. Koren didn't know true brotherhood was not one formed of terror and tyranny but bonds formed in love and loyalty.

Adamson had betrayed Koren centuries ago and now Koren was back to make him pay and to try and force him to join his brotherhood all over again.

He would not do it. No matter that it killed his children or condemned Macleod to an Immortal life time of pain. He could not do what Koren wanted of him.

Not if Humanity and Immortals alike wanted to live in peace for the next several centuries.

Duncan was the next victim. He stumbled across his missing children. Overjoyed that they were alive he never once suspected that a trap lay in store for him. Nor imagined the price of pain and humiliation he would have to pay to see them free.

**

* * *

The Present**

"We managed to save Michael but not Madeline and I think in some way we lost Macleod as well. I know I did, when we rescued Michael and Macleod. . . ." Adam stopped, he took a long hard pull on his beer. He'd exchanged the scotch for beer so he could stay just sober enough to live through the nightmares o fhis memories so that he could tell his friends what they needed to know.

His mind was lost in a memory too painful to describe and too raw to put on display. Duncan's clothes torn, blood, his daughter's and his own, mixed on his skin, drenched in it. Kronos had raped Duncan brutally and violently and murdered the child while Duncan lay helpless only to watch her small life dwindle on a cave floor.

Duncan had somehow crawled to Maddie's side and curled around the dying child held her to his breast and was rocking her in his arms for hours after her life had ended. He was raped on top of her dead body.

Michael had told him that. one night weeks before his own death, drunk out of his mind and able to tell his father just a little bit of the terror he still woke up from in the nights. He didn't share this with Dawson and Richie. It was too painful.

"Duncan was catatonic for a year. Michael was withdrawn and aware of the pain he had caused his family. He felt guilt and he tried to make up for the loss of Madeline. He was attentive and he took care of Duncan while I hunted Koren and attended to the town and my farm. It was a dark time, a very dark time for the three of us."

"I knew what had happened to Mac or rather I had a pretty good idea of what Koren had done to him. You see, I wasn't always a good guy. I wasn't always Mr Neutral party, Mr Switzerland Immortal. I was a real bastard a long time ago and I was a partner of sorts with Koren. I was never as evil- no I wont lie, not even to myself. I was just as evil as he was- is, but I woke up. I grew up. I changed and Koren hasn't and he never will, because he is all that is true evil in this world." hissed Adam, adamantly.

Dawson and Ryan were stunned. Dawson couldn't picture Adam in the same category as he could Koren. Adam was gentle, caustic but kind. Adam was always someone you could rely on, okay, except when he was running away from his problems but he was a good guy and a guy you could count on to stand at your back and guard it. There was no way that Adam could ever have been evil.

"I had a weird progressions of epiphanies that shook me to my core, you could, I suppose almost say I evolved. I wanted to change. I needed to change. I was bored." He laughed chillingly. "I was unhappy. I suddenly had a conscience where for many years I did not have one. I should say my conscience had been buried for so long under so much rage and pain and despair that I was empty of love, empty of life."

"I was _death_."

"I wanted to reap death and make people suffer as I have suffered. I will not use that for my only excuse, I was not sane by any sane man's determining. I had lived a long life, long before I had met Koren or the others of our little band of brothers. I was very old. I was burnt out. I had watched my latest life be torn apart and the way I had died was far worse than any deaths previously that I had suffered. My thirst for revenge and for blood was astonishing and for a long time it had felt unending."

"What conscience, what gentle soul I had previously possessed was burnt out and dead inside of me. Koren was charismatic and he catered to my needs. He loved me best and most fiercely. I was his tool for our rise to power. We were feared. We were powerful. And for the first time in a long time no one hurt me. No one could stand up against us. We ruled the lands, terrorized it, raped it, and burnt whole villages to the ground. I was feared. I was powerful. No one was going to ever hurt me again!"

Richie looked sickened. Joe was pale but intrigued. Adamson looked like someone afire with holy glee. His eyes blazed with an unholy light. His quickening shimmered to the surface of his skin in an interesting display unlike anything either mortal or Immortal had ever seen before. Then it dimmed and was dormant again.

"But, over time I began to change. My conscience awakened and I knew I had to make reparation." His glow dimmed, his face was less cold, less ugly, it showed a face full of gravity and pain. "But how? How do I repair a millennium of damage on mortals? I realized I couldn't. All who I have wronged or hurt or who had hurt me were long in the grave and dust and ashes upon the earth. I left Koren and our band of brothers. I made a choice of conscience and I left."

"I've kept running ever since and because I didn't end it then, back then, because I had been afraid, my family in the present suffered for it. Koren killed my baby girl. Koren had violated my wife, I mean my lover. He had taken my loved ones and damaged them or killed them. If I hadn't have been such a coward those many years ago." his eyes blazed in pain and impotent rage and endless old pain and remorse. "I could have ended it all long before it had ever happened. We could have had a happy life together. Our children could have lived to give us grandchildren. We could have had a happy life! I was so stupid! That was why I tried so hard to find Koren so I could kill him and make sure he couldn't destroy any more lives."

"I learned my lesson too late. I learned it very well when I saw what that monster had done to my lover and my daughter. I burned for revenge again. I hunted as I had all those centuries ago. I hunted and I hunted, I narrowed my view to finding Koren and making him pay. I couldn't face the damage that had been done. Michael took care of Dunca in my absence."

"I let my farm go to ruin. I let my patients die. All I cared about was hunting that animal down and making him pay. Make him pay for what he had done to my wife, my beautiful Duncan. My Duncan, who didn't seem to see me or see the world in which he still lived in." Tears burned in Adam's eyes, his voice choked on grief and rage. "Duncan was broken, so broken. He didn't react to Immortals. He didn't react to my touch at all. He didn't see me. He didn't see Michael or the farm or the sympathetic townspeople who came by to help us in our time of grief." He snorted, took another burning gulp of another cup of scotch he needed the strong stuff now instead of the weak beer. He was silent for a little bit lost in his painful memories.

"Did Michael find out about "Dunca"?" asked Joe.

Adam lowered his head. "I think so. I don't think he quite understood it. And Gods know what they preached about every Sunday forbid such a thing. I think however he loved Dunca. He had been raised by and loved by this woman who was not a woman, and no matter what form his body, Duncan had been his Ma and still was. And Duncan needed him because his Pa was out there hunting the monster that had killed Madeline and had damaged Dunca and had tormented him."

The scotch bottle empty Adam reached for the beer bottles and gulped the contents down with a luster and determination Joe had rarely seen from his customers. "It was a long fruitless search. Michael talked some sense into me or rather begged me to come back to my senses that Dunca was getting worse without me there to rely on to lean on. I didn't at first understand what he meant until I saw Duncan trying to behead himself."

Richie turned pale. "Well obviously he didn't succeed but I mean how did Michael handle learning that you were both Immortal?"

"Fairly well, actually, Michael was a pretty intelligent and pretty accepting kid. I loved him very much. I could do little but be there for Duncan. It was a long way back from the suicide attempts and the attempts at hurting himself. It was a year and a half before he spoke and then it seemed as if he were having a conversation out of nowhere. He looked at me and saw me, really saw me again and knew who I was. He went to Maddie's room and he cried, he wept and he wailed. That sound will forever haunt me, Duncan's pain."

"His cries didn't stop. He made himself ill, the grieving process was hard on him. He was in bed a lot, barely functional. Sometimes though he'd get a little whimsical or fey and start …. I don't know quite how to say it. . . . It chills my blood even today to remember it."

"He'd be cradling a baby that wasn't there. At night he'd wake me up and tell me to go check on the baern, or he'd go check on her, find that she wasn't there and search frantically all through the house before remembering, Maddie was dead. He'd break into desperate weeping. I'd have to sedate him. I knew what kind of monster Koren was. I knew what he had done to Duncan had broken him."

"I just wanted to help him. So I drugged him. I shouldn't have, but I just wanted his pain to ease a little. Too much sedation, too many times doping him I should have known he'd eventually create a . . . need for it. But I wanted to ease his suffering."

"He became a drug addict?" asked Joe stunned.

Richie spit out his beer. "No way, man, no way! Not Mac, he hates drugs. He wont even take an aspirin for a headache."

"I know. Like I said I should have known better. It took Mac a long time to forgive me for drugging him half out of his already addled mind. But at this time in history we were just learning what these drugs could do to a body, and like I said, my intentions were good ones. You know the saying about pathways to hell being paved with good intent – well that's what happened here."

**

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TBC

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**PART THREE COMING SOON 


	3. Chapter 3

Highlander: Something Unexpected

Final Chapters - The End Part ONE

* * *

So you thought you could infiltrate the watchers, did you, Doc Adamson?

It's kind of funny now, looking at this picture, I just happened to stumble across in the old archives. Its really kind of funny how life treats both us mortals and you immortals, eh?

If only your watcher at the time realized just who it actually was that he was painting in this here picture of yours. If only he had imagined who Dunca Adamson had really been. Chuckle. Whooweee, boy, would there have been a field day back then. Can you imagine what kind of wild fire would have taken up in the Watchers back then? Hell they can scarcely reconcile such behaviors nowadays, what do you think they would have done to you both back then?

Ah well, the past is the past, eh? Chuckle some more, the kind of sinister mirth only a true nut job could have.

Who the hell are you really doc Adamson?

No matter. You infiltrated our society, you need to be dealt with. As for MacLeod interference won't be tolerated. I hear he's having some mental problems.

Maybe he's just not cut out for the role of savior, after all, hmmm? What a disappointment, poor Dawson. Poor, poor, Joseph Dawson, as clueless as the others, how sad. I would think that he with his many years in the field would recognize an immortals when one happens to come along and get partnered with him. Or maybe he knows and he's part of your little scheme, eh?

Foolishness, such foolishness. What could you hope to achieve Immortals? What are your intentions, eh? Such freaks of nature and we poor fools that we are, we're just play things, little puppets on strings, the strings that are you immortals' destiny.

Well it ends now!

Don't worry. I'll give you guys a romantic ending. After all, a marriage lasting nearly two hundred years, deserves some respect, no?

The watcher smirked up at the painting. It was old it had been commissioned in England. There was doc Adamson, his son and his wife, staring out into ether captured for all time and for the posterity of History.

* * *

TBC

* * *

Sorry for the shortness of the chapter. But I have finally had a small break through! Yes!

Just need to watch a couple of episodes of Highlander and I should have this ficcy finished, at long freaking last!

Mwa-hahahahahaha!

Yes, jazzy has gone a little nutty.


End file.
